Free Suicide King (The Jake Samson & Rosie Vicente Detective Series) by Shelley Singer

chest, rings, maybe even a cane. I got the rings, but nothing else.
    She wore a big square-cut emerald on her right index finger and an even bigger ruby on her left ring finger. She was wearing those sunglasses you can’t see through, so I couldn’t see her eyes at all, and her eyes, I guessed, would show her age. She had to be at least sixty-five, I reasoned, since Joe had been in his early forties and had, according to Pam, an older brother. Unless she wasn’t the mother of the older brother. Maybe she wasn’t Joe’s mother either? Maybe there was a mistake and she was their sister? My face must have shown my confusion. I stood up.
    She smiled. “Mr. Samson? I’m Marietta Richmond. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is you want to know, and who is paying you to conduct an investigation into my son’s death?”
    I smiled back. Her teeth were definitely her own, I could see the slightest sag under her chin, but the hair was carefully and expensively dyed a soft brown. Her shapely, firm-looking body was encased in a long, sleeveless form-fitting royal blue dress of some soft cottony fabric. I couldn’t see her legs, but the arms were smooth and slender. I wished passionately to see her eyes.
    “I’m sorry if I seem to be looking at you too much, Mrs. Richmond,” I said. “But I’m finding it hard to believe you were Joe’s mother. Not to mention having an even older son.”
    “You’re very sweet, Jake.”
    “Thank you. And in answer to your questions, my client is a friend of his, a political connection. And I want to know about his life, what kinds of relationships he had with what kinds of people. My client believes someone killed him. People usually have reasons for killing other people.”
    She sat down on a love seat. I took the chair I’d been sitting in before she’d arrived.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes people kill just for the pleasure of it.” She smiled again. I really wanted to see her eyes.
    “I don’t think that’s what happened here.” The old man in the blue suit came in.
    “Would you like something to drink, Jake?”
    “Mineral water would be nice. With lime?”
    “And an orange soda for me, please, Gerald.” The old man went out of the room again. “I’m glad you’re doing this, Jake. I don’t think he killed himself, not for a minute. He was not that kind of man. He was not that kind of child, either.”
    “Had you thought about hiring an investigator?”
    “No. I never thought of it. But I’m glad someone did.”
    Gerald returned with our drinks. She took a big swallow of her bright orange soda pop. It left a bright orange mustache. A lesser woman would have made excuses, given reasons, been almost apologetic for liking a child’s drink. Not this one.
    “I suppose you want to know who I think might have done it?”
    “Sure.” I plucked the lime wedge off the rim of the glass, squeezed it into the water and dropped it in. “I’d like that. I need all the help I can get.” I pulled out my notebook and pencil.
    “I have no idea.” She took another sip of her soda and dabbed at her lip with a napkin. She still had an orange mustache. “But there’s his wife, of course. And what about that odd woman who was running against him. Gelber, I believe her name is? I met her once. Although I don’t think a political opponent is really the answer.”
    “Why not?”
    “Well, it’s not like there was any real power to be had by winning the Vivo endorsement.” There was an edge of contempt in her voice. Did anyone close to Richmond, except Pam, respect his political career?
    “So I guess you didn’t think much of his politics?”
    If I’d been able to see her damned eyes, I guessed they would have widened. “I admired my son’s politics very much, Jake. What I didn’t admire was his delusion that he could make a career of them. I don’t understand what he was doing. It was the only stupid thing he ever did. Except of course for